


hail to whatever you found in the sunlight that surrounds you

by riverbed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Games, Sex Toys, Vibrators, playful dominance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:04:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6177631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverbed/pseuds/riverbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>eliza initiates a game. alexander ups the ante, raises the stakes.</p><p>he always was one to rise to a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hail to whatever you found in the sunlight that surrounds you

**Author's Note:**

> warning for this being crazy shit.  
> it's sunday. i urge you to observe your religion today instead of reading this. i've been tempted by satan but it's not too late for you.
> 
> title's [a rilo kiley song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbfmwKM2zFg). i like to think of eliza with a halo around her; light follows her around. she's perfect.
> 
> washington's a congressman; alex works in his office. not that you couldn't infer.

Eliza is baiting him.

They are at a luncheon - an important one. The president is there with his detail, and Washington is there, and so are all his enemies and potential enemies - Jefferson and Madison in particular, threateningly friendly. The event promises to be pretty influential, one way or another. Eliza has a tendency to flout such humdrum, finds it much more interesting to distract him.

But, he supposes, that’s why he married her.

Alexander doesn't get it, at first; he’s confused by her sidelong glances and smirks dripping with far more sweetness than she usually laces them with. But then Eliza gets him up against the wall in the hallway as he returns from the restroom, and as she grinds down on his leg between her own he feels an unmistakable pattern of vibrations buzzing from her, and she presses the little remote into his hand. Then she’s gone, back to the ballroom to speak to an acquaintance from Congress. Alexander stammers after her, too late, and struggles to collect himself before shoving the condemning remote in his pocket.

Fine; Eliza wants to play games. Through grit teeth, he’ll play.

He positions himself near Washington and Burr, the small half-circle they make to accommodate him just enough to mostly hide him from Eliza’s view. But he can see her through the gap between their respective shoulders - he watches her sit at a bench in front of a sculpture and continue chatting with the Congresswoman, and he reaches in his pocket, ups the intensity setting a couple notches. He sees her lips part but she doesn’t turn even slightly from her conversation partner - his beautifully composed wife. Except when she doesn’t want to be.

He turns up the other arrow adjustment, as well - the speed setting. Now she uncrosses her legs and crosses them back the opposite way, and Alexander cannot think of anything more obvious, and he burns with the heat of it, the knowledge that somebody must know what they are up to. It makes him stir in his fine green linen trousers, and he has the sudden, highly invasive thought that the spring suiting will pay no mind to his privacy.

He scans the room just to take his eyes off of Eliza for a moment, and Jefferson meets his gaze, grinning lasciviously. _He knows,_ Alexander’s mind insists.  
_  
No, he doesn’t. He always looks like that._

And what would Jefferson say, anyway? Of all the dirt he could dig up on Hamilton, on Washington’s camp in general, _So I noticed this aid’s very obviously fucking his wife_ falls kind of low on the Hill’s gossip heat thermometer. He straightens his tie, nods in reaction to something Burr is saying, stares Jefferson down like he always does.

It’s going to be a long afternoon.

*

He rides with Washington, because he wants to go over some miscellaneous strategy details, while Eliza takes their car home. Before they all part ways, she kisses his cheek in a way that should be chaste, but she nips at his earlobe as she backs away. Alexander fumes.

He can’t focus the whole way to the office. He can’t stop thinking about her thighs, the way that dress (one he likes very much, short and cream with watercolor florals) floats against them in a slight breeze. Every bump in the road or short stop in DC traffic has him fidgeting against the seat, trying to imagine anything other than what Eliza’s doing at home.

“Hamilton!” Washington snaps his fingers, bringing him back to Earth just as he’s picturing the way he’ll push her skirt to the small of her back.

He begrudgingly pays attention for the rest of the trip, and sees Washington off on the steps into the building. Washington’s driver takes him home, but Alex has no interest in the idle chit-chat he wants to make.

*

The children are all out at their usual weekend activities, with the exception of Philip and Angie - Alexander can hear them bickering downstairs in the TV room, over the sound of a video game. Alex doesn’t bother, goes straight for his own bedroom, pulling off his jacket and tie as he goes.

Eliza is exactly where he expects her to be, lying on her back in the center of their bed. Her legs are in an elegant sprawl, and she’s got a pillow under her hips for leverage, her back arched at a gentle angle. She is nude except for her panties, a pastel blue pair in smooth satin. She seems to just be reveling in it; her arms are outstretched above her head, and her eyes are closed, little mouth parted.

He clears his throat as he shuts the door, and she sits up with a start. 

Her eyes are heavy-lidded and fix directly upon him. “Alexander.” And she lowers her voice, a threat. “Come here.”

Alexander growls and practically knocks her over in his haste to obey. He boxes her in, an elbow on each side of her body, and kisses down her neck, over her collarbone, nips at the softness of her breasts and cherishes her little noises as he moves downward. He puts his hands on her sides and pushes her up a little, so her hips are angled more readily toward him.

The fabric of her underwear is soaked through, and he lifts the crotch of them, moves them to the side to lick some of the wet from her lips. The toy is still buzzing away happily inside her, so he focuses on getting the rest of her as worked up. Soon he adjusts so he can pull the panties off her hips all the way, and she helpfully lifts them to facilitate. He palms her belly, steadying her back down to the comforter.

She has her knees up now, her feet planted firmly. This gives her leverage to rock down into the toy’s vibrations, and she moans, loud enough to be practically irresponsible with their children downstairs. “Enough,” Alexander says, and he pulls the toy out of her abruptly. She whines at the loss, still rocking her hips as if her body hasn’t caught up to what’s happening. He examines the vibrator; small, slim and pink with an elegant arc. It's dripping wet, fluid catching on the smooth silicone at its end where the bulb would rest just right against her. He loves knowing that Eliza is getting off, but he always feels so inept looking at these; he feels his own anatomy lacking, brutish in its simplicity. Big plastic has certainly picked up where God left off. He snorts at the thought.

“I shouldn't let you, all you've had today,” he tells her, pressing down with the vibrator on her clit. She squirms. He knows she doesn't love direct pressure there - she prefers things inside her, or the light flutter of his tongue. He isn’t feeling particularly inclined to follow the pattern of their usual foreplay - nothing about this day has been typical, and it’s all Eliza’s doing.

“Haven't had - any,” she pants out, regaining speech only as he uses the settings on the toy itself to adjust it down to a low rumble. He regards her suspiciously. “You haven't come once?” She doesn't really have to repeat it, but he feels choked with the idea and would like another moment to process it, to compose himself.

He holds it hard against her and watches her skin flush pink, leaning up to kiss her stomach. He is struck by tenderness for her, the sort of love always brimming just below the surface, even in hazes of lust such as this - he has such fascination for her, such disbelief that she has endured so much to be with him. That she has carried and cared for their children means more to him than he could ever express, so he presses his lips to the same places he’d kissed in anticipation of each baby, admiring the imperfections on her skin that only he gets to see.

She repeats his name, so he moves lower, dropping the vibrator on the bed next to them. She doesn’t have time to mourn its loss, his tongue is on her so fast, tasting her need as it leaks from her. He kisses up her inner thighs in turn then returns to her center, and he presses two fingers into her as he licks at her and she shouts. It's exquisite, the way his practiced hands and tongue know just how to manipulate her, the way he crooks his fingers in a beckoning motion and she goes, arching her back so he will press harder into that spot.

Alexander's breath is warm against her and his loose hair brushes her thigh and every sensation is overwhelming - she can sense the air temperature shift in the room, ratcheting higher degree by degree, and hear his sighs and appreciative swallows, and feel the light scratch of the cotton bedclothes under her. Her skin is aflame as she hits her peak; she shakes apart in relief, trying to keep her eyes open and on Alexander as he furrows his brow in utter focus on his task.

He doesn't even let her come down before he puts the toy back in her - she moans weakly when the last few aftershocks of her orgasm are turned into an entirely new one as it presses back perfectly against her g-spot, quick but light. He pats her thigh lovingly. “That stays in for the rest of the night no matter how many times you come, so you'd better consider if you can take it each time you do,” he says matter-of-factly. He fishes the remote out of his pants pocket and puts it in her hand, then kisses her deeply. “I love you,” he says, pulling away an inch to hover over her and smile sweetly, and she whispers it back, because her voice won't pick up. She loves him, she loves him and he is her entire world and she _wants_ him, wants to please him and own his happiness. She allows herself to be selfish for her Alexander in these moments - she has forgiven his transgressions, has looked upon his liaisons with understanding when he has tried to be honest, and has known through it all that the only reason she manages to do so is the confidence that he always comes back to her. The breadth of his love is so wide the net couldn't possibly be cast and catch only Eliza, but for comfort, in sickness, for true warmth, for the solidity of home, he turns only to her, accepting no substitute. She has no trouble believing he thinks her special - others are beautiful, but she is singular.

Before she knows what's happening the slender vibrator is being nudged up harder into her and suddenly she feels full, impossibly so. She gasps as she realizes - Alexander is stretching her to her limit, pushing in next to the little toy. He gets about halfway in before he pauses, and she fumbles through the fog in her mind to adjust the settings on the remote, upping the intensity and lowering the speed.

God, he has got to get him one of these. He loves when Eliza uses hers on him, getting him on his hands and knees and working the spot inside him that makes his eyes roll back in his head. She keeps telling him to pick something out, something that could be just his ( _for when you're good,_ she always emphasizes, and Alexander always mewls at that) but he hasn't gotten around to it. First thing tomorrow he’ll swallow his pride, go to one of those intimidating websites with Eliza over his shoulder to guide him. She would never steer him wrong.

For now, though… he grasps her calf and lifts her leg to rest upon his shoulder, cants his hips up into her and the noise she makes is so raw that he can do nothing but mirror it. He is surrounded by tight wet heat and a hard pulsing thrum and the slide of him is caught by the smooth plastic of the toy, so different than Eliza’s inner walls, but it makes the sensation uncanny, surreal. The impediment forces him to go slowly and plan his movement, which takes his breath away.

They’re both a mess by the time they get a steady rhythm down; his hair is matting to his forehead, and he realizes that he hadn’t even bothered to take off his vest; he had just popped his fly, and the contrast of his clothes against her skin as he ruts up against her is less satisfying than the melding of bare skin would have been, but it’s too late. Eliza fiddles again and again with the remote and each time he feels like he’s reset, back at square one, has to rethink his strategy to get himself back to the edge. But she is slamming herself into him as he thrusts into her heat, and she is practically incoherent, weightless under his grip on her hips.

The fit being so tight, he can tell with absolute certainty when her body gives itself over to pleasure, and each time he is overwhelmed by both her muscles and the unyielding plastic clamping down on him. The vibrations roll directly against the head of his cock during one particular orgasm but let up just a moment too soon and he swears, finally deciding he has to take control or he’ll never stop chasing this.

The last few pieces of her are still shattering apart when Alexander rolls them and reenters her swiftly, and it feels like breaking apart again - she shudders, the wetness of her body making it exceedingly easy for him to fuck her through the remainder of the orgasm and right into the next one. She is so on edge, so tightly wound but so loose; she can do nothing but revel in the contradiction and look down at him heavy-lidded as he runs his hands up from her hips to her breasts, caressing her overwarm skin. His lithe body is so full of strength, his hips so solid bucking up into her from below, quick and hard, and he’s breathless, panting, and he reaches for the little remote that she’s somehow managed to hold onto this whole time and turns it the highest it can go, laces his fingers with hers and presses their palms together with the remote between them as he shuts his eyes and tilts his head back and moans, slowly, dragging it out. His pace goes frantic and then he stills, and finally he sighs and she feels their bodies relax together.

As they unwind she ends up on flat on top of him, head on his chest with her hair laying across him. He is above her breathing, just breathing, still holding her hand. She goes to untangle their fingers but he holds them fast, looking down at her now. She meets his eyes, questioning, squirming against him, the friction of his clothes against her even too much.

“I said the rest of the night,” he tells her, the corner of his lip betraying a mischievous smile. She gapes at him, astounded, and he takes her open mouth with his and pulls all the frenzy from her body, successfully distracting her from the overstimulation. When he pulls away he takes the controller with him, leaving Eliza wiggling her empty fingers.

Alex crosses to the dresser, strips out of the rest of his three-piece and gathers boxers, jeans and a Hanes undershirt from his drawers. He balls them up and heads for the master bathroom, calling after him, “What do you want for dinner? I’ll have Philip go to the store so I can cook tonight.” A casual conversation. Eliza thinks about sitting across from him at the table and watching Alexander smirk at her. She swallows with great effort, thinking back to her own decision in the morning to start this. Stupid. She should have remembered that her husband has never been one to back down from a challenge.


End file.
